


Tandem

by leiascully



Category: Leverage
Genre: Aromantic spectrum, Casual Sex, F/M, Pre-OT3, Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:20:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: They don't fuck after the first job, but they do after the second job.  Parker's still wound up from the sight of all that cash, and Eliot's an easy mark.
Relationships: Parker/Eliot Spencer (Leverage)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 99





	Tandem

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: sometime before pretzels  
> A/N: I don't know where this story came from. Maybe from reading [thingswithwings'](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings) excellent fic [Odd One Out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003250) about aro!Eliot, although I don't think it pulls too much from that. Maybe from the discrepency between the showrunner's claims that the OT3 is canon and the lack of recognition of that in the commentaries/actual show footage. Maybe from the fact that Parker is just Parker and nobody on the show ever really explains anything about why she seems to have a sort of patchwork knowledge of/interest in sex and relationships. But I wrote it, and here it is: Parker and Eliot, and Hardison's love coming at them like an onrushing train.

They don't fuck after the first job, but they do after the second job. Parker's still wound up from the sight of all that cash, and Eliot's an easy mark. He's as physical as she is, living in his body all the way to his fingertips, and Parker likes that. His hands are exactly as strong as she hoped they would be. Even though they're the same height, he can hold her up against the wall if she wants, and yeah, she wants. It's athletic and sweaty and satisfying and then they nod at each other and part ways until the next time.

By unspoken agreement, they don't tell Hardison. He wouldn't understand, Parker thinks. She likes Hardison a whole lot already, and she can tell he likes her too, and that's why she can't fuck him. Well, she could, but it would mean something different.

The sum total of Parker's sex education was some video about the blossoming of her womanhood before Archie had pulled her out of school, and the one time Archie had turned to her and said, very seriously, "I don't recommend that you get romantically involved with any of the assortment of ruffians you'll meet in the course of this job. You don't seem boy crazy like my girls, so that's a start."

Parker had propped her hands on her hips. "Weren't you the one who was telling me last week about the time you slept with that lady who managed to get you out of the Tower of London?"

"Oh, well, I didn't say you couldn't sleep with them," Archie had said, looking especially smug, "but sex is sex, Parker. Romance is something else entirely." He'd smiled to himself in a way Parker hadn't entirely understood at the age of fifteen or so. "There's nothing quite like the high at the end of a job. Sometimes you'll have the opportunity to share that feeling with someone and it can be...incandescent." He'd hidden the smile away again. "But never give your heart to a thief, my girl." 

She's carried that with her for years, filed away with all the rest of Archie's wisdom, and it's worked so far. She's had a lot of sex, with a lot of different partners, and it's generally been really satisfying. She's had sex in the air and sex in the water, in hotel rooms and hideaways all over the world, with men and women and everyone else. Even when she's worked by herself, it's been easy to pick up a partner or two in a bar. She knows that she's attractive, although she generally doesn't care about the way people look at her. 

It's different when Hardison looks at her. He sees something she's never caught in the mirror, she thinks. Parker doesn't know how he does that — sees things that aren't there, patterns and possibilities — but they all do in their way. Eliot sees how to take someone down. She sees where to find an opening. But she and Eliot get in and get out. Hardison infiltrates a system and finds a way to stay, to surveil, to leave a back door for future use. Hardison believes in a future. She definitely can't have sex with him.

But she can fuck Eliot, and she does, for a couple of years, and the only thing it means to either of them is that they'll be worn out and happy at the end of a job. Parker thinks about money and comes hard. She doesn't know what Eliot thinks about and that's the way she likes it. All she sees in his eyes is her reflection. And they like each other, they do. She'd go so far as to say they maybe even love each other at this point, but that's separate from the sex. They're a team, not a couple. It's just a release.

Eliot has her pressed up against the wall, fucking her from behind and pulling her hair a little, which she's enjoying more than she thought she would. She grabs his free hand and puts it on her clit. He might as well do the work.

"Have you ever fucked Hardison?" she asks.

"No," Eliot says, his mouth close to her ear. He bites at her, just the edges of his teeth, and she shivers. "Have you?"

"No," she says, and reaches back to clutch a handful of his hair. Two can play that game. He grunts appreciatively and fucks her harder. Her breasts rub against the wall, and it feels good for now, but she'll have to push herself back in a minute or two.

"Do you want to?" he asks. 

"Sometimes," she says. "But it wouldn't work."

"Because he's taller than me?" Eliot teases. "I'm sure you could figure it out."

"Because he cares," Parker says. "Do you want to?"

"Sometimes," he says, thrusting harder into her, "but you're right, he cares too damn much." He strokes her clit and she arches her back, rocking her hips into his hand and her scuffed breasts away from the wall. Eliot grunts as she tightens around him. "We can't fuck Hardison. He'd want to stay the night and make us breakfast the next morning."

"Mmm," Parker says. "Breakfast." 

"Not the point," Eliot says, thumbing her clit until she gasps. "You and me, we know what this is. And we know what it isn't."

"We make our own pancakes," Parker pants. "We — ah, fuck — we wake up alone and we're happy about it." 

"Damn right," Eliot growls, and they don't talk about it anymore, because the only words they have left are _fuck_ and _yes_ and _more_ and _now_.

Afterwards, they collapse into bed, side by side but not touching. Eliot's the person Parker's fucked the most at this point, Parker thinks. She likes that he knows she doesn't always want to touch more. It's convenient, all the things he knows about her. Her teammate, not her boyfriend. 

"We're gonna fuck Hardison, aren't we?" he says. 

"Yeah," she says. "I think we are. Someday." 

"Dammit, Hardison," Eliot says to the air. He looks at Parker. "He's gonna fall in love."

She looks at him and winces a little. "He's kind of already in love. I mean, I think so. I don't know. I've never been in love."

Eliot sighs. "It's great until it sucks."

"That's what I figured," Parker says. "He definitely felt something about it when I kissed him on the job with the Michaelangelos. He kept trying to talk to me about it."

"What are you going to do?" Eliot asks. He gestures between them. "I don't know how this works if Hardison's involved. Especially if he's in love."

"I wonder if I can fall in love," she says, looking up at the ceiling.

"Guess you'll find out," Eliot says. He shifts comfortably and gives her a gentle little punch on the shoulder. "I believe in you, though."

"Thanks," she says. 

"Hardison's a good guy," Eliot says. 

"You're a good guy," Parker says, looking at him. 

"I'm not," he says automatically. 

"You're good to me," Parker says. "And to Hardison. Why am I not in love with you? Maybe I should be. Maybe I'm broken."

"You and me aren't like other people," Eliot said. "But different isn't always broken. We know how the world works. We know better." 

"But you were in love before," Parker says.

Eliot sighs. "Maybe I was somebody else before. Don't know if I could do it again."

"Well," Parker says. "I guess we'll find out." She puts her hand against his, not holding it or covering it, but just the side of her finger touching his. 

"Guess we will," Eliot says, and she can't figure out his tone of voice. 

"I like this," she says. "I like it the way it is."

"Nothing lasts forever, sweetheart," he says. "But we've had a good run. I think we've got a while yet. Hardison's not a fast mover. At least you know he'll be careful with you." 

"What's it like?" Parker asks. 

"Falling in love?" Eliot asks. He twitches his finger against hers. "Depends on how you do it. Feels a little bit like getting into a hot bath after a long day. A little bit like getting shot." 

Parker frowns. "I don't want to get shot."

"I don't think Hardison's the kind of guy who can do what we do," Eliot tells her. "Maybe with some people, maybe for a little while. But not with you."

"Not with us," Parker corrects. 

"He's never kissed me," Eliot says, as if that means anything. Hardison wouldn't have kissed Parker either, if she hadn't started it. He hasn't done it since.

"He would," Parker says with certainty. "He will." 

"Maybe so," Eliot says. 

Parker looks at him. "If I have to be in love with people, I'm glad it's you." 

"Nobody said you have to be in love with me," Eliot says. "Hardison's the one pining." 

"We're a team," she says. "I don't think we can leave you behind." 

"On this one you can," he tells her. 

She shakes her head back and forth on the pillow. "You and I both know Hardison won't let that happen. And neither will I. And neither will you. We work together." 

"Guess there are worse fates than falling in love," he says. "Twice."

"I don't think it will be so bad," she says. "Falling in love, with you. I'll be in good company." She brushes her finger against his one more time and then rolls out of bed, picking up her clothes and pulling them on. Eliot watches her, propped up on one elbow. He looks soft and distant all at once.

"Usually you look at me when I take my clothes off," she says, "not when I'm putting them on."

"Just want to remember," he says. "Everything's perfect right now. Even if it's good later, it won't be the same." 

"I'm the one who's not good with change," she teases him, pulling her boots on.

"Darlin', you don't even come close to having a monopoly on the issues around here," he tells her with a wry grin that doesn't make his eyes crinkle. 

"Yeah," she says, squinting at him, "but I'm not afraid anymore. I remembered you always catch me when I fall." 

He nods and doesn't say anything, just bites his lip thoughtfully. She doesn't kiss him when she leaves — that's too romantic, too gentle — but she thinks about a day that she might, Hardison in the bed beside him turning up his face for a kiss of his own. The thought lights a flame inside her heart, something new and different and frail, like a match she has to cup her hands around to keep it from being blown out. But she's changed her world with a match before. She can do it again.


End file.
